


Peace

by Hopefullyamayzing



Category: Magisterium Series - Holly Black & Cassandra Clare
Genre: F/M, THE COLD MASSACRE
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-26 22:41:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7593004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hopefullyamayzing/pseuds/Hopefullyamayzing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Cold Massacre! </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Death always won, in the end.<br/>So she attacked.<br/>Bring the Enemy of Death to his enemy.</p>
<p>KILL THE CHILD</p>
            </blockquote>





	Peace

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: As much as I wish it was, Magisterium doesn't belong to me, but Holly Black and Cassandra Clare. 
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr @amayzingmagic36

Sarah gripped her knife, Semiramis, uneasily in one hand, and her infant son, Callum, in the other. ‘Miri’ as Ayesha Rajavi had suggested for a nickname, glinted coldly off the ice. She didn’t like this, waiting around for the battle to be over. Yes, someone needed to hold Callum and nurse him and love him, and yes, she had given birth only four days ago, and yes, she was probably the most powerful person in La Rinconada right now, but mages fought. She should be at Alastair’s side right now, fighting. 

 

But she wasn’t. 

 

Master Rufus and Alastair had begged her to stay, though, for Callum, for her child, even, when Sarah kept on insisting she stay, as a guard for the ones who NEEDED to be here, who could not guard themselves. Alastair’s face rose up in front of her eyes from where she was sitting against the wall- a lot more tired than it had been ten years ago, before the war, when they had all still been together in school- but still young. Too young. If Jericho had lived…. They all would have been twenty- three, save for Declan, who was ten months older than Sarah and his birthday had already passed... Only twenty- three. _Constantine_ was only twenty- three.   
Too young for this. Too much blood. 

 

Sarah snapped herself back to the present. But there was nothing to do. The fighting mages had, before they left, set everything out, ready for a long term wait if necessary. They had even sealed the weak inside, making a door of ice that Master Alma said would be a better disguise than one made of metal. So Sarah couldn’t even take a walk outside. Master Rufus had championed the idea of a safe cave in South America, but he had never said it was going to be so _dull._

 

So, nothing productive she could do. Idly, staring at a wall of ice, Sarah pulled minerals out of the glacier with her mind and manipulated them into a ornate, swirling ball, with whorls and subtle mineral colors flashing off of the floating balls of fire near the high ceiling. Callum, who, admittedly, was the size of a naked mole rat, though he had the temperament of an angel, opened his eyes- as blue as her own- and watched the iron ball flutter in twisting patterns. Sarah’s son extended an arm, trying to catch the ball. She slowed it down, and he immediately snatched it out of the air. 

 

“Coo!” he said through his mouthful of gums, then smiled up at Sarah, a genuine baby smile, and just for a minute, the way it had when Master Amaranth had handed her Callum, everything faded away. All was right in the world. Constantine and Jericho… the war… the awful Chaos- ridden attack last year on 9/11 that had killed all those normal people… So many awful fights, when all she wanted was rightful peace… Williamsburg… It blanked away. In that moment, the whole world was comprised of Sarah and her child. 

 

Which made the chaos- forced explosion all the more startling.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Instinctively, Sarah curled around her son, protecting him from the icy shrapnel. But there was nobody to protect _her_. She winced as the cold ice sunk into her back, but at least it was just ice.   
At least.   
Thank God they hadn’t put a metal door in the glacier.   
After a long moment, Sarah forced herself to look up, to assess her surroundings, to try and control the circumstances. But there were no controlling these. Constantine himself stood at the entrance, flanked by about fifteen Chaos- ridden. Sarah saw the glint of his silver mask reflected off of the icy puddles. In his hands he held an odd staff, with an onyx tip and black smoke curling off it, and, what a surprise, more chaos. His posture and bearing were so unlike the ‘Connie’ she had known eleven years ago that Sarah couldn’t help but remember:

 

Remember how happy she was to be chosen second at the Iron Trial. How Constantine got picked first- with his PERFECT score, it was impossible not to be- then herself, then Alastair, then Master Rufus chose Declan, and she remembered thinking how awesome it was that she and her brother got to be together, and then Jericho, Constantine’s twin. He was a bit smaller than Constantine, but later, on the bus, Jericho informed Sarah (with a hint of defensiveness), that he was older than his brother by 36 minutes and 19 seconds. The beginning of their Iron Year was unlike the rest of Sarah’s apprentice group’s tenure at the Magisterium- relatively happy and worry free.

 

Besides the lessons. The first month, spent sorting sand in what Constantine called the Room of Sand and Boredom, was awful. But it _did_ make concentrating on magic instinctive, at least. 

 

But then the happiness level changed.   
Master Rufus split them up into sibling- teams, Jericho and Constantine vs. Sarah, Declan and Alastair, to see who could get to the Butterfly Pool first and return with some of its’ water without getting lost. Sarah’s team had been almost there when they heard Jericho’s shriek of pain resonate through the caverns. They ran there, Alastair in the lead, but too late. He stopped so suddenly, she and Declan ran into him. But a bruised forehead was the least of Sarah’s concerns when she saw- when she saw _Constantine._ Black smoke poured from his hands- destroying the rogue wyvern in icy exchange for seeing Jericho bleed. His eyes burned like brands. He and Alastair and Jericho all had gray eyes, but somehow, Sarah had always thought, Constantine’s were different, more _distinctive_ , like a record- shattering hurricane system. And the elemental was long gone, gone, gone, but the chaos just kept coming. 

 

Makari.   
Chaos magic.

 

Jericho tackled his brother to the floor, and somehow, the chaos stopped. Just like that. But never the same. From that moment on, the five of them had lost their innocence. 

 

A year later, they lost a person, too.   
Master Rufus had left Sarah, Alastair, and Declan in the Library, to read up on the robber-baron era of mage politics, which according to Alastair, who had been levitating on his head the entire time, was “intensely boring,” while he went to talk to somebody about Connie’s Makar lessons, or something, while Connie did the _actual_ lessons with Master Joseph, and Jericho as his counterweight, when that greasy little Assemblyman Graves ducked through the doorway. He had the expression of a smug cat lazily toying with a mouse, and uttered fourteen words that changed Sarah’s life as much as being chosen for the Magisterium had.   
“Constantine Madden overextended himself using chaos magic today and killed his counterweight, Jericho Madden.”  
Alastair promptly fell to the floor with a _CRASH!_

 

Sarah remembered how, in their Bronze and Silver Years, the three of them hardly ever saw Constantine; he spent so much time with the creepy Master Joseph doing who knows what. And what she did see, she didn’t particularly like. He would stagger back to their rooms once or twice a week, haggard, taciturn, grief-stricken, and exhausted, and sleep for twelve hours, then go back. He won award after award, but there was only one goal, and he fell so short of winning every time. Jericho. Not the same. Never the same.   
And then, right in the middle of Silver Year, Constantine and Master Joseph and some of the first Chaos- ridden blasted open a wall. And the Third Mage War had begun.

 

Blasted open a wall.  
Just like he did now.  
How had he even known where this place was?  
Not a sanctuary anymore.

 

The faceless monster that called himself the Enemy of Death, that had once been as close as a brother to Sarah, started killing. Serving Death, not defying him.

 

She stood up with a jolt, and, still holding Callum, ran over to Declan, who was sitting on a blanket. He had been injured in the last battle, at Williamsburg, with some sort of magical fire.   
Sarah plunged into what was already a massacre.The healers couldn’t help him. Burns all over his body. Every inch was agony. Her brother tried not to show it, but Sarah could tell. Declan was her brother. How could she not?

 

“Watch Callum,” she told Declan, and handed her son to him. She thought of all her boys- _Alastair-and-Callum-and-Declan-and-Jericho-and-even-Constantine-before-everything-happened,_ and her hope, love, and regret gave her strength. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Apparently, chopping off their heads was one of the ways to ‘kill’ Chaos- ridden. Sarah did it to one of them, hoarsely hacking off its head with Semiramis. Not before it almost pulled out her left arm, though. Fire, water, and air magic were next to useless on them, and up high on the glacier, with thick ice between, the earth connection was almost nothing. Chaos magic could destroy anything- but Sarah was glad she wasn’t a Makar. The price would be too high. 

 

So, that left her with Semiramis. She continued to stab at the Chaos- ridden surrounding Constantine in a mass of Death, darting in and out. Killing- it felt so wrong. Sarah hated it. She consoled herself with the fact that the Chaos- ridden weren’t people, that it was a mercy to put them out of their misery. But she had killed other mages before, ones that had sided with Constantine. How were you supposed to make peace with your soul by doing _that_?

 

There were a few other mages that seemed to be holding their own- the closest to Sarah was a sixty- something woman with a very colorful dress and a mass of hair that had originally seemed to be blond, but was now liberally streaked with gray and white. She was skillfully manipulating air to keep the Chaos- ridden away, but to what end? They would break through eventually. There was nowhere to run. At least, Sarah thought, Constantine had brought a relatively _small_ force of Chaos- ridden. Maybe she could do it. The ice melted and ran through with rivulets of warm blood. Fire burned the glacier. Who knows what the local people would think. Sarah didn’t care. She was fighting. Life or Death. Not much time to think about it. 

 

Death always won, in the end. 

 

Sarah could faintly see Declan creating a water wall, sitting up from his blanket on the ice. Pushing a Chaos- ridden away. But, the same as the woman, to what end? As much as she could, she worried for her brother. The rest of Sarah was completely focused on her defense- offense.  
Three more, stabbed, disemboweled, bloody throats slit. Then Sarah had her opening. Constantine was right there. 

 

No.

 

He wasn’t Constantine.   
Not anymore.  
Master Joseph had twisted him.  
He didn’t deserve that name.  
Monster.  
Joseph’s monster.  
The Enemy of Death.

 

So she attacked.   
Bring the Enemy of Death to his enemy.

 

Clouds of chaos floated around him, but she swerved around and under them. Sarah faced the Enemy, not expecting to get anywhere. But hoping. Always hoping- and, somehow, in one improbable, irrefutable, impossible blow, slashed him from right shoulder to left hip. Tearing his tight-fitting leather. No. Way. Had she injured him. Sarah had the pleasure of hearing his howl of pain. But she didn’t have much time to savor it. _WHAM!_ A blast of wind socked her in the chest. Sucker punch. But worse. Broken ribs. Punctured lung. Probably. She doubled over, gasping. Incapacitated. The Enemy walked on, slaughtering anyone in his way. Through Sarah’s hazy, pain filled vision, she thought she saw him kill three children.   
And not stop walking, not stop slaughtering.  
He should rename himself the Friend of Death.  
Sarah managed to stand up straight.   
Just in time for the Enemy, thirty feet away, and protected by the fighting from her, to use air to develop a telekinetic chokehold on Declan.

 

Dragging him up in the air. By the throat.

 

His face was already purple.

 

Sarah achingly slammed the pommel of Miri into a Chaos- ridden’s head. But the woman didn’t crumple. She grabbed Sarah’s left arm and broke it. She howled from the pain, but the thought of Declan kept her conscious. She punched her in the chest, her right hand surrounded in fire, and kept moving. _Declan._

 

But.  
When Sarah got to him, he was on the ice.  
Cold.  
Already.  
Blue face.  
Not breathing.  
Dead.

 

Dead.  
Declan.  
Dead.

 

Her brother.

 

She was never going to talk to her brother again.  
Never. 

 

She understood why Constantine had become the Enemy now.  
Understood the pain.   
Understood the desire.  
To tear down the world to bring him back. 

 

But she was different than him.  
She was not going to become a monster.  
People needed her.  
Alastair.  
Callum.  
She would not leave her son without a mother.  
She would not let Alastair be the last one alive of their apprentice group.  
The Enemy was not Constantine.  
He was a monster.

 

And the Enemy was now fighting that blond woman and a few other elderly mages.   
He was winning.  
She was going to kill him.  
So Sarah joined that fight.

 

She parried and stabbed, hitting him a few times. Scrapes. Chaos brought down the woman.   
The Enemy produced a staff and killed five more.   
Sarah killed three more Chaos- ridden in return.  
She spun around, expecting another attack.  
There were no more Chaos- ridden left.  
But Constantine kept killing innocents.

 

Sarah aimed a wild thrust with Semiramis through his heart. It almost landed. Two inches away. But a thrust through the chest. The Enemy’s flesh and blood and bone. On Miri. Peace. So much blood.

 

The Enemy spun wildly. His staff caught her in those still- broken ribs. Knocking her down. On her stomach. Semiramis fell out of Sarah’s hand. Clattering to the ice. 

 

The Enemy quickly, desperately, still bleeding out, grabbed Miri.  
And stabbed her through the back. 

 

Pain.  
Painpainpainagonywhitehotpainagonyohgodmakeitstoppain agony

 

But Sarah managed to sit up and grab his legs. Agony.   
And pulled him down.   
White hot.  
Forced- yanked Semiramis out of his hands.   
Stabbed him.  
Stabbed him and stabbed him and stabbed him.  
Blood gushed out of her  
And blood gushed out of him.

 

He collapsed.  
He collapsed.  
He collapsed,  
Hecollapsedhecollapsedhecollapsed.   
PAIN.   
But she had beat him.  
Beat the monster. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Everything was silent.

 

s i l e n c e 

 

Everyone was dead or dying.

 

Including Sarah.

 

But maybe not Callum.  
She army-crawled toward her son. Every movement was a misery. He was pushed against an icy wall, most likely by Declan, and pale as ice but otherwise sleeping, curled up in his blankets. Somehow, someway, fine. Not a scratch on him. 

 

Maybe she shouldn’t wake him. No child- no _one_ should have to see their mother like this. Painted in blood, herself and her Enemy the artist.

 

But Sarah just wanted to hold her son again.  
She managed to sit up and put him into her arms. 

 

His eyes opened.

 

They were a distinctive winter-sky gray. 

 

Constantine’s winter-sky gray.

 

Sarah would never forget that color.

 

Not much different than Alastair’s.   
But different.  
Very much different than the blue eyes that Callum Hunt possessed. 

 

This was not Callum Hunt.

 

This was not her child. 

 

This was a monster.  
agony pain scream blood painpainpain pain

 

‘Callum’ meant dove. Doves stand for peace. Sarah had known that the name ‘Callum Hunt’ truly meant ‘a hunt for peace.’ Loved that it meant that. 

 

Fate was cruel.  
Irony was bitter.

 

Constantine Madden.  
The Enemy of Death.  
This monster would never be anything but more pain and death.

 

It had to die. 

 

Sarah Hunt slammed her son with all the strength she could give into the ice on its left leg. She felt a perverse, dying pleasure as she heard its tiny bones snap and it began to scream.

 

But Sarah could do no more.

 

Agony.

 

Blood was still pouring out her back in gallons. Lethargy started to overcome her head. She did not have the strength to kill a monster-child. 

 

But Sarah could leave a message for those who might come after.  
Warn them.

 

Warn Alastair.   
He shouldn’t have to raise a monster.   
Alone.

 

The thought of Alastair gave her strength.   
Strength to crawl to the back of the the ice cave, where there was clear space to carve on the ice, space that was not mostly stained scarlet and covered in bodies. The monster’s squalls at her back, spikes of pain every second, and every second an hour, 

 

she

 

got

 

there.

 

And she did   
agony pain make it stop let it stop it will stop soon but have to do this firstherdutyspike coldnumb  
It.   
Three simple words.  
On her stomach, inches above the ice.  
Darkness crowding more than the edges of her vision.  
Looking on her work with satisfaction.  
Three simple words.

 

All the difference in the world.   
To her.  
To Alastair.  
To those to come.  
Kill the monster. 

 

KILL THE CHILD.

 

Semiramis was clutched in her fist.   
An centimeter above the ice.  
The Enemy’s slayer.  
Her slayer.

 

Peace.

 

One final blast of agony.   
Final.   
Nothinglikeshehadeverfeltbeforepainpainpainpainaaaaaaah  
Semiramis clattered to the cold, hard, ice.

 

Peace.

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope you liked this fic!


End file.
